


Assorted drabbles and ficlets [Doctor Who]

by honeynoir (bracelets)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-07 23:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bracelets/pseuds/honeynoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. -less, Amy & Eleven, G

**Author's Note:**

> April 2010. You know that scene at the beginning of _The Beast Below_?

You're Amy Pond and you're floating in space, anchored by five fingers and nothing more.

You have no fear whatsoever that the Doctor will let go of you, and you don't think your fearlessness is odd. You're not afraid of anything when you're with the Doctor, and you're certainly not afraid of _him_.

You're weightless and worriless. Heedless. Everything that has ever gone wrong in your life is null and void now, erased by this moment.

Your heart swells and you're suddenly sentimental and you hope you'll someday be able to repay the Doctor this.

(You're already doing so, though you cannot possibly know that. Your giggles and your fanned-out hair and the awe you're broadcasting on every channel are not lost on the Doctor. He's happy when you're happy. He is new again and he is painless and restless and careless and he is very old and quite young and very much alive and loving it.)


	2. A Welcome Interruption, Amy & Rory & Eleven, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy, Rory, an interruption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April 2010, when the ~love triangle was still fresh.

Amy and Rory stood side by side, leaning on a sturdy railing and looking out over the remarkable oddity that was the inside of the TARDIS. Their hands rested very closely together, but neither of them bridged the last few millimetres.

The first time they'd been on an actual date Amy had been nervous despite herself. She felt the same way now, just standing there while Rory took in all that alien beauty. He expected her to say something, she'd gleaned as much. But what could she say? What couldn't she say?

A terrible but brief clatter cut through the silence, and the Doctor popped up from a hatch in the floor. Rory startled and his hand closed reflexively on Amy's arm – but as soon as he'd seen the cause of the commotion, he removed it.

"Right! I need four hands, two pairs of hands," said the Doctor. He wore ridiculously chunky safety goggles, and held a live welding torch in one hand and the sonic screwdriver in the other. "In short, I need you both."

Amy was so relieved at the interruption that she let her tension out in a nervous giggle; she quickly pointed at the Doctor's goggles to hide her real reason for laughing (and they were actually funny in and of themselves).

Withdrawing her finger after an appropriate bout of giggling, she glanced at Rory. There was something disappointed lingering about his tense jaw, but then he met her gaze and practically fled down the stairs, where the Doctor waved the torch enthusiastically in greeting.


	3. Oh, Eleven/Amy, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May 2010. 
> 
> _‘It’s oh so quiet  
>  It’s oh so still’_  
> \- ‘[It’s Oh So Quiet](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/bjork/itsohsoquiet.html)’ by Björk

"It's not goodbye," he says, and then, softly, "Amy?"

She can't answer, simply can't. The silence stretches and weaves (hurts her ears) and the air is pressed out of her lungs.

She doesn't want to go home yet. She waited so long. Shouldn't this be her decision? She knows it isn't, of course, but bitterness feels like a balm.

Her throat burns. Her eyes burn.

He cradles her shoulders and kisses her forehead. His hands are cold through the fabric of her shirt and his lips are cold on her skin and her heart is cold in her chest.

She still can't speak.

He turns away and leaves her.

The TARDIS dematerialises soundlessly. Perhaps she's actually gone deaf; perhaps he's remembered to loosen the brakes.

A lick of wind caresses her face, passes through her hair.

It's gone. He's gone. He left.

And Amy, life, everything, is _oh_ so still.


	4. Break, Amy/Rory, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Your Raggedy Doctor was perfect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May 2010.

Your Raggedy Doctor was perfect. Funny. Brave. Impertinent. Free. Unbreakable.

And he disappeared. He left you.

So you tried to recreate him. You used the only one who was willing to help you.

The problem was… Rory broke.

He scraped his knees and split his lip.

He fussed about spitting out food.

He didn't want to ruin clothes.

He got scared.

He cried.

He had to go home every night.

You couldn't pretend when he didn't play along. He broke your illusions. You yelled and sulked. For shame. But you were a child and he was a child. You were Amelia and he was Rory – and that was the problem.

But he always came back.


	5. Six paragraphs concerning Rory Williams, G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April 2010. Beware gratuitous tense- and POV-changes.

i. Rory is a good person, always has been. He didn't complain when Amelia wanted to spend every break and weekend and holiday pretending to travel in time. He didn't when he came with her to the hospital (psychiatrist #1) and she decided a ladies' room stall would make a perfect time machine box. (Not even when he had to fling open the stall door and yell "Geronimo".) He didn't even protest when they were caught and her aunt yelled at him for encouraging the fantasy Amelia was there to forget.

ii. He never laughed at her either – not once during that first year, when she flinched every time "zero" anything was mentioned.

iii. The day Amelia realised she couldn't keep playing time machine anymore, she started to push him away (sometimes physically – once she sprained his ankle) because he reminded her of… something more, something better. He wouldn't leave her alone, no matter how much she fought him. Amy wouldn't admit it, but she was glad.

iv. He didn't call Amy less when she revealed what her new job was. If anything, he called her more.

v. Amy tells herself she'll be back before she left, because otherwise it would mean he was waiting for her, stuck in Leadworth – because he was a good man and would be waiting for her – and she knows all about that and how is that fair?

vi. Sometimes the Doctor notices that Amy is a bit preoccupied, that her eyes are softer and her breathing slower than what he considers human normal when visiting gorgeous planets or hiding from murderous monsters or holding a malfunctioning plasma coil. And every time he reminds himself that twelve years plus two years is a decent amount of time for a human and that Amy has been through things and then he wonders if there is something she would like to talk about. He never asks because it's always odd timing really and then he always promptly forgets.


	6. Art, G, Eleven & River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [cinderbella333](http://cinderbella333.livejournal.com).

"I!" announced the Doctor, using his most boisterous voice and gaudy mannerisms. "Bring you art! Console art!"

River faked awe.

The warship crew still looked decidedly murderous.

The Doctor presented River's scanner, twirled over to the console, placed it on a nice-looking spot. "Art! Now, I'll just connect this, press this, these and that and the rest is a surprise!"


	7. Conversating, G, Amy & River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _River asks, “So, how are you dealing?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> August 2010. There's at least one thing here that fits neatly into our new canon...

A wheezing fire rose from a disproportionate burner, fighting the descending darkness for command over this particular part of the dust-that-was-once-a-city.

"So, how are you dealing?"

"With?"

"All of time and space."

"What can I say? It's brilliant."

"I'd like a bit more substance than that."

Turned to its warmth sat Doctor River Song and Amy Pond, the latter damp from a moment in a portable shower, the former still brushing dust from her clothes and her hair and digging sand out from under her nails.

"It's the only place – yeah, I _know_ – I've felt like I've belonged."

"Don't lose yourself. I've seen it happen. It's not pretty."

"I won't. I tried. Couldn't."

"Hm?"

In retrospect, perhaps River hadn't really needed the Doctor's help this time. It had been a remarkably easy dig. But – in retrospect.

"I changed my name."

"Who hasn't?"

"I thought it worked. Not so sure now."

x

From another man, River had been able to coax only one piece of information about Amy; twelve years, and then two more.

"I waited so long. I want to take advantage of it now."

"Oh…"

"I mean enjoy it. Obviously. I want to _enjoy_ it lots."

x

Amy's hair hung dark and damp; the heat from the fire had started to curl a few strands. "I know it has to end sometime. I know that."

"There's something to be said about your own planet and your own time. Trust me."

"I'm going to go home. Stuff to do. This is… just a break."

x

"Have you written about me? In that journal?"

"Maybe." River shifted her gaze from the fire to the vast, dark sky. "I definitely will, I can tell you that much."

x

"River… Tell me who you are. Why did _you_ change your name?"

"Oh, this is so not the time or the place."


	8. All lies, PG, River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She adopts a distinguished slur._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a spoiler_song @ LJ ficathon and a prompt by [silvia_elisa](http://silvia-elisa.livejournal.com/): _River. Raise a glass and tell some lies._

"Another?" she says, and adopts a distinguished slur. "Oh, I couldn't possibly – Well, if you insist. We're celebrating, after all. Yes, white. Red gives me horrible headaches." She raises her glass, looks at all of them in turn. "I propose a toast – to the syndicate, to profit. I've never done anything like this before, and it's the most fun I've ever had in so short a time – and I once dated a genetic experiment who only lived for a day. I never in a million years thought I'd outrun those guards! And that alarm, blaring and flashing all over the place, I couldn't concentrate at all. I can't believe I've got a transspectral ioniser in my pocket!"

She chuckles.

"Excuse me if I ramble. My husband says I can't hold my drink – you should see _him_ after a few, terrible dancer… Sorry, it's just – I don't know how to thank you for giving me this chance…" She takes a deep breath and drops the slurring and rambling in favour of extreme. clarity. "Though I will tell you this – if you're trying to poison someone, at least make sure you dose the right drink. It's not in mine, but I know exactly who of you has got it. And I won't tell you." She looks at her watch. "I'm waiting for my ride. Ten seconds. As in; ten seconds from now I'll be gone. Plucked right out of this very seat. If you all sit very still, I won't blow up your ship on my way out."

She counts backwards from ten and then she dumps her wine, poison and all, all over the oh-so-nostalgic candelabrum – and then she throws herself out of her chair and runs.


	9. Old bones, G, Amy & Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A furniture shop bores Amy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> July 2010. IDEK.

How the Doctor imagined she would enjoy visiting a furniture shop, Amy could not even begin to fathom. It was not even the biggest in the Universe (but it was run by giant owls, so it was all right).

The different sections of the shop were brightly colour coordinated and frightfully well-stocked (Amy had no idea how the giant owls moved about without spraining their wings).

They were in the Pink section now: _Armchairs, Chairs, Stools, Etcetera_. The Doctor had commandeered a rocking chair, and was moving it back and forth in a perfectly modulated way with tiny movements of his left foot.

Amy slouched in an armchair (she had tried several in the very close vicinity of the rocking chair; one was too hard, one too soft, one too lumpy, one too ugly – but this one was just right). It was nice being comfortable while bored out of one's mind, she mused. She fixed the Doctor with a dull stare and said with as much spark as she could strike up, "Would you like a blanket? If so, do you prefer thermo or old-fashioned wool?"

"I'm not cold," said the Doctor serenely.

"Great," Amy muttered. "I can feel my youth draining away, thanks for asking." She flipped through the round brochure she had been forced to take upon entering (you don't refuse an insistent owl). It had a very pedagogical layout (understandable for ages three and up, Amy thought) and it, too, was colour coordinated. Every other section looked more appealing than the Pink one right now (even Brown) – but there was one especially enticing. "I though about heading over to the Red section. Do you want to…" She paused and glanced mischievously at the Doctor. "Forget it. You're too old."

"For what?" He paused his rhythmic rocking and leaned forward ever so slightly. The chair creaked. "There's life in the old man still."

"Is there?"

"What's there to do in the Red section?"

"Jumping on beds."

A moment passed, and then the Doctor grinned.

Amy raised a brow. "You're alive for that?"

He got out of the rocking chair with his usual graceful gracelessness, and quite fast, too. "Lead the way, Pond! And don't slouch like that, it's bad for your back."


	10. Just words, PG, Amy & the TARDIS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April 2010. This might make no sense.

The third day in a row Amy wakes with a lump in her throat and a hollow in her belly and a blazing in her chest, she finally accepts that she needs to talk to someone properly; or rather, that she needs someone to listen. She abhors both things and the intensity of her need surprises her. Somewhere deep down, she's convinced she'll feel better afterwards. And anyway, she'll practically be talking to herself. She drags the duvet out of bed, wraps it around her shoulders and sinks down on the floor, resting her back and a temple against the wall. The soft vibrations behind it (from it?) sound like purring.

She has talked to the TARDIS before, but only saying shallow little things, like 'Thanks for leaving that burning pit so quickly.' Mostly she just whispers 'Good night'.

This time is different, because the topic is actually something of substance. She imagines telling the Doctor, which only causes the hollow in her stomach to grow. He would be disappointed, she thinks. Even though he's got arch enemies that he'll gladly pummel and is a bit of a hypocrite, he'd be disappointed in her. She desperately doesn't want that. She's also quite sure he would make tea and sit her down to discuss it.

"I've realised something," she starts, quietly, staring at a discarded sock on the floor. When did she last wear that?

The purring increases encouragingly.

The words feel awkward in her mouth and refuse to leave her tongue smoothly; she slurs as if drunk, but she gets them out on the first go. She feels silly, because they're just words. Just a personal pronoun, a noun, and a name. Done. Simple. Yet she feels really, really weird now she's said them.

At her temple, the vibrations pick up even more in intensity, momentarily, before returning to the pre-revelation purr. First the side of Amy's face itches, and then she feels calm, suddenly; the proverbial weight has been lifted from her shoulders. The TARDIS is a good listener. And she's been around, she understands. She doesn't judge, either, Amy hopes. She wraps the duvet tighter around herself.

She's never hated anyone this strongly before. It's scary.

"Please don't tell the Doctor," she mumbles, and closes her eyes.


	11. An Unwelcome Interruption, G, Amy & Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy, the Doctor, and an insect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May 2010. Um, yeah. I have no idea where this came from, honest.

Amy followed the Doctor’s example and dangled her legs. The great fallen trunk they sat on creaked and protested a little under their combined weight, but it didn’t yield. The forest was a truly beautiful place, serene and yet decidedly alien. Sunlight filtered through foliages, wind rustled leaves, something smelled like chocolate. A miniscule insect of some kind wandered out from under a shrivelled leaf and grubbed about beneath their swaying feet, completely at peace.

Amy couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to tell him. “Doctor,” she said, tensely, “There’s something-”

He reached out and plucked a petal from the flower he had eased into her hair earlier. “Something…?” he prompted, while he looked down and carefully let go of the petal at just the right moment. It floated serenely downwards and landed right in front of the little bug, deep blue against its bright pink.

“Something I have to tell you.”

He turned his undivided attention to her. And waited, quietly, reading her face with restless eyes.

Amy suddenly couldn’t find the words. Her mouth went dry, and his silence made her heart constrict. She had to do it now, just had to. She opened her mouth –

and a brutally loud bleating tore through the silence and the moment and her concentration and every word she’d ever known flew out of her head and she very nearly jumped out of her skin. She blindly grabbed at the Doctor just to keep herself from falling off the trunk. It was as if an enraged sheep roared in her ear.

The sound died out as quickly as it had come, leaving a faint ringing in Amy’s ears. When she had control over her breathing again, she glanced at the Doctor. He looked about as dazed as she felt. She let go of the fistfuls of tweed she’d grabbed, and he pulled back the arm he’d thrown around her.

“What was that?” she asked, quite collectedly, considering.

The Doctor pointed to the insect, now happily feasting on the petal. “I believe it thanked us for the meal.”

Their eyes met.

The Doctor guffawed, slapping both his knees and hers. Amy glanced at the insect and dissolved into laughter, too, because really, what else was there to do?


	12. Here Comes the Tide, Amy & Eleven, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy stared up at the magnificent sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May 2010. 
> 
> Warning: inability to move.

Amy stared up at the magnificent sky. Dusk was approaching and every conceivable nuance of every pastel undulated up there, swirling with sheens of mother-of-pearl, all seemingly in step with the lapping of the waves somewhere to her left. “The sky is beautiful,” she said. “I bet the sunset is something remarkable.”

“Oh, that is very funny,” the Doctor answered, somewhat muffled.

“It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t have laughed.”

“Throwing us into a hole on the beach for not doing cartwheels to greet the Queen sounds like a joke.” He spoke with difficulty, but he had assured Amy he was all right, and she would cling to that.

“And yet here we are,” she said lightly. She tried to move her hands and feet again; and again she accomplished absolutely nothing. The wet sand was as hard as cement, and she was hopelessly spread-eagled in a hole as deep as she was tall.

“Amy, I can’t talk to you anymore. I had to stop breathing. Please, be quiet and let me think.”

Stop breathing? she thought, alarmed, but swallowed the question. He’d had to laugh. The Doctor, always the instigator, had laughed and slapped the Ambassador on the back – and about two minutes later been pushed face-first into the hole. “Fine”, she said. “I’ll look at the sky.” It was either looking at it or closing her eyes. At least it wasn’t raining.

She watched the sky grow darker and darker, more lilac and bluish. She grew thirsty and hungry, stiff and sore, but she kept her complaints to herself. The silence was oddly comfortable considering their predicament.

Just as the sky hit a particularly gorgeous shade of purple, one that seemed to resonate in Amy like a vibrating string, the gentle lapping of the waves rose with impressive speed to a roaring force of nature, a sound not unlike the one she’d heard in the mouth of the star whale.

The very beach seemed to tremble; rivulets of sand slithered down the walls of the hole.

“Hope you’re done thinking now, Doctor!” Amy shouted over the swelling noise, “Here comes the tide!”


	13. Deciding on dinner, G, Amy & Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy folded her arms and leaned against the console. “Hungry.”

“Where to now?” asked the Doctor, grinning. “How about a nice museum?”

Amy folded her arms and leaned against the console. “Hungry.”

“What, again? Oh, all right then. Tell you what…” He turned away from the controls. “What do you want?”

“What do you mean what do I want?”

“What sort of sustenance do you crave? Carbohydrates or, or protein or just something colourful?”

“I don’t know, I’m just hungry.”

“Amy Pond!” he shouted, opening his arms. “We can go to every restaurant, every chip shop, every tearoom, anywhere in the Universe, anywhen! Whatever you feel like eating, I guarantee you we will find a place that serves it.”

“What, you’ve got like the Michelin Guide for the Universe? Or should that be for all of space and time?”

“I do!” He tapped his temple. “I keep it in here. You’re hungry. You want to eat something. What. Do. You. Want. To. Eat? Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

He made to tap her temples as well; she slapped his hands away and stomped him on the foot. “Let me think!”

“Faster, you’re hungry!”

Amy shrugged. “Pie. I kind of want pie.”

“Kind of pie. Good start. What else?”

Amy brought her fingers to her mouth, almost bounced. “Something not for humans! I can eat food that’s not for humans, yeah?”

“Sure you can, just chew properly. Something not for humans, easy to come by! No problem! What else? Tea? Coffee? Fizzy fizzy drink? Venusian super custard? Pickled petals? No one’s pineapple surprise?”

“Popcorn for dessert?” she asked, pompously.

“Popcorn for dessert! I know a place that serves that! I know a place that serves all of that! I told you! Should we go there?”

“We definitely, definitely should!”


	14. Anniversary, PG, Martha/Tom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been exactly two years since the Judoon moved the hospital to the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> November 2009.

It’s been exactly two years since the Judoon moved the hospital to the moon, and back again. Two years since Martha met the Doctor, since she became something more, since her life changed forever.

It’s just a measurement of time, Martha thinks, it doesn’t have to mean anything at all. Still, it’s what everyone keeps saying: “Two years. Can you believe it’s been two years?” Julia said it when they had lunch in the hospital cafeteria the other day; Tish mentioned it that same night (then she had involuntarily remembered the Master’s reign, her expression had turned stony and she had gone home).

Of course Martha believes it been two years. She’s lived those two years several times over, for all she knows.

***

She joins Tom at the corner store, looking for a bread that will fit the soup they’re going to reheat for dinner. They’ve picked out one and just joined the queue to pay when someone taps Martha on the shoulder – it’s Oliver Morgenstern, of all people, and he says it, too: “It’s been two years since the alien attack. Can you believe it, Martha?”

Martha shrugs, pretending to think it over, but Tom’s eyes widen. “That was today?” he asks, and Morgenstern tells the story. (His story.)

***

Tom laughs at Morgenstern on the way home.

And yes, that particular rendition was quite overblown, nothing at all like what Martha remembers. She smiles; the idea of Morgenstern as a peace-broker between the human race and the Judoon is plain amusing.

“Drugging is obviously much more plausible,” Tom says suddenly, with the certainty he reserves for diagnosing something simple, like chicken pox, like strep throat. He makes it a statement.

Martha’s smile freezes. His tone of voice, the finality of it, shakes her.

***

Tom’s noticed the change in Martha’s behaviour, has sat her down at the kitchen table. He rubs her shoulders, trying to ease a knot that isn’t there.

The bread lies forgotten on the counter, the soup is far from their minds.

She wants to explain to him that this is a happy day for her, the anniversary of one of the most important days of her life, that’s she’s definitely not having the nightmares about Judoon (or about drug-induced delusions, as Tom thinks) that Morgenstern obviously has – but he’s all man of science now, never having lived through that year that never was.

She shakes his hands off after an appropriate amount of time, mumbling, “Thanks.” She feels raw, bare, sad in a way she can’t specify.

Tom leans against the table, facing her, his eyes soft. He nudges her foot with his. “Want to talk about it?”

“I went to the moon two years ago,” she says, pronouncing each word precisely. Her voice wavers, but there’s steely conviction in it. She’s made her own statement, surprised ever herself by making it, and there’s a finality born of truth in hers.

Tom withdraws his foot, his expression a little shocked. There’s a glimmer of doubt in his eyes, but whether he doubts his own opinion or her mental health, she can’t tell.

Perhaps, she thinks, he’ll be ready someday. For all of it.


	15. Constant, PG-ish, Amy/Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'He doesn’t… well, speed up.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 2012. S5!Amy. Part of an old WiP.

She’s on the lap of her imaginary friend, which is the sort of thing she’d make up in her psychiatrists’ offices. It’s happening, but because of lack of space, that’s all, and they are squeezed between someone very cold and someone very slimy. She doesn’t mind, because… Doctor.

She can feel him breathe, all steadily and calmly; feel his hearts (there’s got to be more than one there) beat maddeningly evenly. He doesn’t… well, speed up. Not when she drags her nails down his tweedy arm. Not when she tugs her skirt higher. Not even when she kicks him in the shin.

There’s something going on far below them; a dance or a game or something unique to this world; all lights and cheers and the odd explosion. She’s not entirely engrossed, but does he have to be so distracting? Pinching her hair and running his knuckles down her spine and sniffing her neck. It isn’t like that, because she’s Travelled now and she’s seen him do the same thing to trees with interesting bark and to rusty wire and smelly fruits and old pots.

She leans back, and aligns her legs with his, and hopes she’ll feel something change.


	16. A note, River/Doctor, G-ish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [this](http://community.livejournal.com/spoiler_song/49388.html), where I couldn't follow directions.

~~Lunch The Park 1pm~~  
 ~~Dinner Little Red's~~ ~~8.30pm~~ ~~10~~ ~~11~~  
Room 983  
 ~~xx~~ **!**


	17. Pastime, River/Eleven, G

River ran a finger down the spine of the Doctor’s diary. “I got hold of an account from Solfive. Know what they called us?”

“Well, they’re reasonably imaginative, love turning a phrase… Something to do with irises?”

“They called us a miasma of self-hatred and confidence.”

“Oh, that’s nifty.” The Doctor scratched his chin. “They’re not wrong.”

“We’ll have to return, then.”

He smirked, just a little. If only he hadn’t flicked his hair at the same time. “Dazzling and handsome? Clever and just the right amount of bad? Cool?”

“They’d still not be wrong, my love. Leave it to me.”


	18. He said it a lot, PG, Eleven & Lorna Bucket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : Character death.

The Doctor came twice to the Gamma Forests, though he didn’t know it.

The first time he came in his ship, in his blue box, with thirty seconds of wonder and darkness and “run, run, run”! He gave them their legends, then, and a new word.

The second time his hair was getting long and he wore a blue coat and half a bowtie and he brought Miranda Cleaves.

The second time he died laughing, staining the undergrowth with his life’s gunge.

The second time he let a little girl ride on his shoulders, and he said: “Come along, Bucket.”


	19. That time they may or may not have been babysitting Stormie, G, Eleven/River

“What do you think they’re up to?” The Doctor shrugged his coat off and tossed it toward a chair. “Craig and Sophie?”

River raised a brow. “Dirty weekend.”

“That’s ridiculous! If they wanted to clean they could’ve just stayed – Oh! Dropped.”

“Nice out?”

“Rains. Found a pound, got befriended by a squirrel, and for a minute there I thought the lady in the corner house was a cat, but alas.”

“Ah…” She nodded toward the William-and-Kate mugs, full of dark brown and definitely not steaming tea. “I recall agreeing to watch the kettle – not to mention the baby – so that you could get milk.”

“Yes, and–” He stared at his hands. Opened them. Closed them. “I was going to the shop, that makes sense! Maybe there’s something in the fridge after all… how carefully did you look? And what is that smell?”

“‘Petrichor’. Found it in the bathroom.”

“Is that appropriate, really?”

River pushed some hair aside, just happening to expose the pulse point she had touched the bottle to. “Isn’t it?”

The Doctor huffed and stuck his head into the freezer. “All the baby food I made is still in here! They must be saving it for Christmas.”


	20. would you? (Rory, Eleven)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Would you’ve taken me with you?” asks Rory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eleven and Rory, definitely during S5, once part of a longer fic where Rory as the only companion was a theme.

“Would you’ve taken me with you?” asks Rory, folding his arms, “if you hadn’t… I mean, if Amy hadn’t… Would you now?”

“What? I wasn’t listening,” lies the Doctor; he’s tired, and the truth is exerting. He wiggles his fingers in his trouser pockets. Looking up at the Tower of Happiness (and it had seemed like oh such a good idea twenty minutes ago, he’d just had to show it to them then) he sees only twisting metal and badly-patched joints and new paint needed. 

”You wouldn’t.”

Sometimes Rory was nice. Sometimes it was very clear he didn’t like the Doctor all that much. They’re anchored in the shadow of the TARDIS, waiting for Amy and Amy’s one missing glove and for her to melt them with her awe. _Oh, Rory_ , he thinks, _why can’t you just be_ that _?_ “Probably not.”

“Good.”


End file.
